


On Singed Wings (We Soar)

by Elysian_Wyrd



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Bigotry & Prejudice, But this is still set in the DA 'verse, Cole has a more human/typically physical body, Cole is a fallen angel, F/M, He needs food etc, Homelessness, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 17:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9502802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysian_Wyrd/pseuds/Elysian_Wyrd
Summary: After the Breach is sealed and the Inquisition disbanded, Riley Lavellan falls off the map. She lives in an abandoned building with other elves; alienages no longer exist, but the old prejudices still abound. The only thing that's changed is that poorer elves no longer have a place to call their own.It's here she meets Cole: a fallen angel with nowhere to go. Together, they'll learn to help each other.Modern AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter beta'd by the lovely [ ButDidyouDieTho ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ButDidYouDieTho/pseuds/ButDidYouDieTho).

A flash like lightning, blue light bleeding across the sky. The clouds shimmer dimly, backlit; night bright as the distant dawn. A crash of thunder follows in its wake, delayed but deafening. A fresh peal of blinding blue, another boom, then nothing.

Riley watches the proceedings with casual indifference. It's an odd thing for the season, but hardly of note. The noise of it makes her ears twitch in pain. She's used to that. The din of distant construction commonly assaults her ears. Never near, no; this part of the city sees no progress, no change, no reconstruction; nothing new and pretty made of the decay. It is forgotten, and so is she.

She leans back against the bloating, rotten corpse of a building, shifts her rags to pillow her head. The hum of traffic, the skittering of rats, the rattling cough of a nearby elf-- Riley falls asleep to these familiar sounds.

***

Riley awakes to find a strange man towering above her, studying her. Ragged blond hair shrouds half his face, most of which is in shadows. Blue-gray eyes reflect the flickering light of the street lamps, the slow rising burn of dawn. He, too, is in rags. His lips twitch downward as he watches her.

"Got a problem?" she asks, suddenly defensive. She's coming to her senses, now, and resents the invasion of her space. She knows to fear it.

His eyes lock on hers, then flit away. He edges backwards, just barely. "Tense and taut, a tangled wire fit to snap. They take and tear, if you let them. They never give it back; no one can. I am not like them, though. Not anymore." A pause, then, "We all have problems."

"Yeah, well," her hand clutches desperately at her pack, afraid to let it go. Afraid he'll reach for it, reach for her. "Nothing we can do about that. Just live and learn."

"She had a friend, once. Human, happy, carefree and wild. 'I'll show you the world, baby. I'll take you away from here.' But all he took was her money, the last of her dignity. She believed until she didn't. Long into the night, awaiting his return. He never came. And she never forgot. Some nights, she still weeps at the memory. He was wrong: you did deserve the world. Do."

She starts, pulling the pack to her chest, cradling it. "The fuck? Did he send you?"

"No. I sent me."

"Oookay. Well, if you don't mind taking your problems somewhere else," she says, still skeptical, "I think I can grind out a few more minutes of sleep."

He shifts on his feet, back and forth. He almost looks nervous. "I have nowhere to go: like you. I can help, if you let me."

"Look, I don't need that kind of help. I'm not about to let you in my pants for a few coin. So piss off."

"That's not what I want. Riley. We can help each other. I don't know what to do."

She frowns. "How do you know my name? He tell you?"

He shakes his head. "I heard it."

So the others were talking shit behind her back again. Great. "Fair enough. So you're new to this, huh? What kind of help you need?"

He pauses, blinks, looks at the ground. Toes at the dirt. "What do you do here? I don't know what to do."

She sighs. Wonderful. Just what she needs: some bedraggled pup new to the game, following her around cluelessly. "Alright, I'll help you. Just don't touch my shit."

"Okay."

***

"Alright. So you got any special skills?"

They're standing in the center of Red Square. The passers-by crowd against them, jostling and oblivious. They may as well not exist. Before them stands the great library-- an easy shelter from the cold --and across, some great building Riley has never had occasion to visit. It's flanked on either side by gold Mabari, standing an eternal, proud vigil. Brightly colored birds litter the ground, begging for scraps. At their right, an elderly elf stacks cracked plastic cups for silvers and bits. Across the way, a younger elf hustles tourists at cards.

The young man beside her stands entranced, half-stooped, watching the old elf at work. "Skills?" he asks, straightening.

"Yeah, you know, something these selfish, bigoted idiots would take an interest in. Personally, I busk here with my flute," she says, raising her pack in emphasis. "I usually rake in a few silvers. Enough to fill my belly for the night."

He frowns. "I don't know if I have any skills."

Great. "Don't worry, we'll find out, 'kay?"

"Thank you, Riley."

"I still don't know your name."

"Cole. My name is Cole."

"Alright, Cole," she says, patting his back, "Don't worry about it."

***

They're back at her shell of a building, sharing a chunk of stale bread between them. A fire in a nearby rusted barrel keeps them from feeling the sting of late Autumn. The winters are always especially harsh, and Riley isn't looking forward to it. This year has been particularly bleak.

"The frigid wind burns like fire; crisp and callous, cracking against my cheek. The others found a half-eaten fish in a dumpster today. We celebrated. But it can't stop the cold, down to the bones it singes sharp, swift and seething. It makes me sleepy, but I mustn't give in. I huddle into the scratching swath of blanket, and wait."

"How do you do that? It's like you know my mind. Do you?"

He looks away, shakes his head. "I still hear the hurts, harsh but hesitant. Hobbled. They hurt me back, more than before. It hurts because I can't help them anymore."

She furrows her brow, tries to meet his eyes: they are everywhere but on her. "Was it magic, Cole?"

He chuckles, low under his breath. "Something like that."


End file.
